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steddieas-shegoes · 1 month

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cw: mentions of scarring, canon-typical violence, flashback (not graphic), minor body horror (again, not graphic, mostly just emotional feelings about scars)

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Everyone gave him weird looks when they walked in, quickly schooling their features when they noticed he was awake and watching them.

He didn’t know exactly what that was about.

They had him on a lot of good drugs.

But eventually he got weaned off them, and he noticed the pull of bandages on his side, and his arm, and his neck, and his face.

He was still unable to get out of bed. Still couldn’t even reach his arms above his chest for more than a few seconds.

But he damn sure reached up to feel the cloth and plastic surrounding his cheek. How had he not noticed for days? How had no one bothered him about it?

Maybe they had and he just didn’t notice. The morphine was one hell of a drug.

Wayne was soft, patient with him. Saw him touching it, saw the way his eyes filled with tears. He’d never been particularly vain, hadn’t cared much about what he looked like to others, but this felt bigger than that. This felt like he was changed in a way that everyone could see.

Add it to the list of things people could bully him for.

He cried himself to sleep, Wayne’s hand in his, silently comforting in the way he’d always done.

When he woke up again the next morning, he was alone.

It was the first time he’d been alone since the boathouse.

He could swear he heard bats outside his door, screams coming from the attached bathroom, flashes of someone dying on the ceiling.

He felt the sharp sting of teeth puncturing his skin.

He felt hopelessness creep into his bones as he gave in.

Maybe this time they would finish the job.

“Eddie!”

Steve Harrington’s voice broke through the thoughts, panicked enough to bring Eddie back to his hospital bed within a second of hearing it.

“Shit, are you okay?” He continued, hand brushing against Eddie’s bandaged cheek.

Eddie nodded once, closed his eyes, leaned into the touch.

He could blame it on any number of things if Steve felt weird about it. The morphine, the flashback, the loneliness.

“You’re okay, Eddie. I promise. Won’t let anything happen to you,” Steve whispered.

Eddie believed him.

He fell back asleep with Steve’s hand gently cupping the mangled side of his face.

If Steve could still touch him there, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

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Steve came by every day, sometimes in the early morning, before visiting hours officially started, sometimes well after Wayne had left to get some sleep. He always smiled when he walked in, a genuine one, not the one everyone else gave that was so fully of pity and pain he couldn’t bear to make eye contact. He sat down on the side of the bed, not the chair like everyone else, not scared to be close.

And every single day, without fail, he would run his finger along the edge of Eddie’s bandage on his face, watching his own movements and cataloging any changes.

Eddie sat quietly, still, scared to put words to anything happening. Scared to tell Steve what it meant to him to have someone acknowledge his pain in this way. Scared to think Steve could mean anything by it.

It was easy to pretend Steve was doing this because he cared.

Maybe he did care.

But he didn’t care the way Eddie wanted him to, needed him to.

So he stayed quiet, still.

He watched.

He fell asleep while Steve talked about his day, the kids, what Joyce made Hopper do around the house.

He woke up alone most days, but that was okay, because Steve would be there eventually.

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“You ready to get that thing off?” Wayne asked, gesturing to the bandage.

“Oh. Today?” Eddie suddenly didn’t want to ever be without the bandage. Removing it meant he’d see what was under it.

It meant seeing how much that place had ruined him.

The pull of the stitches hadn’t been as obvious with the pull of the bandage masking it.

But now it’s all he felt.

The nurse smiled at him as she put some antibiotic cream over the area, saying he would probably still have to keep it extra clean for the next week or so while the stitches did their job.

Wayne smiled at him in the way that meant he didn’t really want to smile at all, but knew Eddie needed him to.

Steve didn’t come.

Eddie didn’t sleep.

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He woke up with panic in his chest and a silent scream in his throat.

He woke up with Steve’s hand on his face.

Gentle, soft, but a strong comfort.

“Promise I washed them first. They said we have to be careful about germs,” Steve said quietly.

“You don’t have to. I know it’s…it’s gross. It’s ugly. I’m ugly.”

Steve shook his head. “No. Not gross. Not ugly. Alive.”

“Steve-“

“You’re alive, Eddie. You could have your entire face held together by staples and you would still be a miracle. You’d still be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Well, Steve’s charm wasn’t an exaggeration, was it?

He wasn’t even sure if the skin barely pulled together could blush anymore, or if the heat that should be on his cheek was burning on the outside the way it felt like it was on the inside.

“It’s gonna be awful when it heals. I saw it in the mirror.” Eddie could feel every stitch in his jaw, the few that spread across the corner of his mouth and bottom lip, the ones that were nearly up to his ear. “I’ll always have a crooked face. The scar will always be huge. It’s all anyone will see.”

“Then they aren’t looking.”

Eddie bit his lip, eyes searching Steve’s. “But you are.”

“No. I’m seeing. There’s a difference. I see you. I see what you’ve survived. I see the mark it left on you. I know it wasn’t just the scars that cover your skin.” Steve leaned his head down, touching Eddie’s forehead with his own. “We all have them. And we’re all still here. Your heart’s beating. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Who knew you were so good with words?” Eddie smiled sadly.

“Robin says I’m just good at not having a filter.”

“She’s right as always.” Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist, turning as slowly as he could to kiss his palm. “You’re not scared of it.”

“No. Are you?”

“I’m scared that you’ll change your mind when it’s always there as a reminder of what happened.”

Steve kissed his nose, making him smile for the first time in what felt like years.

“I’ll have the reminder that I got you out of there. That no matter what, the bats couldn’t finish the job. That you were stronger and you made it.” Steve let his hand drop, but quickly laced his fingers with Eddie’s. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you to trust me, but will you? For today?”

“Just today?”

“I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

“And what? Every day after that?”

Steve smirked.

His eyes were glistening with tears, but Eddie could tell it wasn’t sadness or fear.

“If that’s what I have to do.”

They hadn’t even talked about feelings, not really. Nothing that made any sense to Eddie, nothing that they could define. A part of Eddie was still convinced he was in a coma and dreaming this entire conversation up.

But even the nurse had noticed the way Steve watched him, how he touched him, how he fought for him. She said he’d been a firecracker from the moment he carried him into the hospital, dripping blood on the tile, staining the halls with his demands for help.

Wayne said he barely left his side the first day, only doing so when the doctors had told him they would call the cops if he didn’t.

Erica even noticed how things had changed between them, stating that she refused to watch her babysitter and the only DM she had respect for make out.

But Steve held Eddie, made him feel like he could get out of the hospital bed and live a life that wouldn’t keep him running. Steve was there.

Steve might even love him. If not now, then some day.

And Eddie could trust him today.

He could probably trust him tomorrow.

“Kiss me?” Eddie probably shouldn’t. The stitches tugged when he talked, and another mouth anywhere near his wounds was just asking for an infection.

But Steve would be careful. He knew what Eddie could handle.

It was barely a kiss. A graze of the lips at most.

But it was the best kiss Eddie had ever had.

At least until tomorrow.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #yall I am having thoughts about Eddie with a very large face scar and it led to this #I know people have drawn stuff before but I’m #I mean like what I am thinking is from his bottom lip across his entire jaw #to his ear and then down his neck #and it’s not remotely even or straight #very jagged when it heals because they weren’t really aiming for stitching it straight they just wanted to get it closed #also a firm believer that Steve has no filter at all and is SO GOOD at romantic declarations because of it #like he doesn’t edit anything #if he loves you you’ll know because he says I love you in all words except those at first #anyways wrote this during dessert for my besties birthday dinner so #not checking for typos hope there aren’t any lmao #if my phone autocorrected she’s probably wrong

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bokettochild · 5 months

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When Four Turns Minish

When Four first shrank himself in front of the rest of the chain, the reactions were exactly what one would think. It was mostly "you're so cute" and "you can get smaller?" and various things like that as most, if not all of them, tried to touch the very tiny person.

They're Links, they're naturally curious idiots.

Except, being so much smaller, that many hands reaching out and that many people forgetting that he was still the Hero, still a capable person even if he was now smaller, was extremely off-putting and frustrating.

To Four's surprise though, his savior in this situation would be none other than Legend, who batted everyone off and then crouched down to be level with him and asked the real questions. "Can you protect yourself like this?"

Of course! His sword shrunk with him and it's still dangerously sharp and strong, even if it is on a smaller scale, so yes, he can defend himself. He appreciates the concern though, and the fact that Legend seems particularly serious about his safety, not just mocking his new lack of size.

And then Legend lowers a hand, not on top of him, not to grab him, but in front of him and asks if they can talk more away from the others and their grabby hands. Four agrees.

He's curious of course, why is Legend acting like this? The vet's answer? "I've been in similar predicaments myself, grabby hands and cooing is annoying. Smaller I may be, but I'd still like to maintain my dignity." Four 100% agrees.

Four happily climbs up into Legend's hand, even more pleased when it doesn't close around him, and let's himself be taken over back to the rest of camp.

From that point on, when tiny, Four likes perching on the vet. Legend respects is wish not to be treated like a pet or a baby, and seems particularly respectful like this.

He does want to know how small the vet can get though, and how.

#brought to you by the image of legend gently lifting four up onto his shoulder #because yes #he knows what it's like to be that small in a big scary world #okay #maybe not THAT small #but you now what I mean #lu legend #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu four #ketto drabbles #ketto writes

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spacexseven · 1 year

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foreigner darling crying while desperately typing into their phone because they don’t any japanese or english, etc. 1) their yandere is a bastard and fucking with them, fully knowing they don’t know the language. 2) the yandere is also struggling and they a dictionary that’s highlighted with translations. 3) the yandere didn’t think this one through and is now acting as if they knew about the barrier. - garfield anon (hello!)

(1) jouno thinks it's funny. here you were, clearly confused and trying your best to communicate with him, but apart from sobs and pleadings of 'please let me go', he can hardly make out your other words. it didn't matter, anyway. this was fine too, you just had to calm down before he could set down some ground rules. he also finds it hilarious when he's talking to you in japanese, knowing you don't understand a single thing, threatening to kill you or your loved ones or telling you about how long he's been watching you and you're just staring at him wide-eyed; isn't that expression far too cute for this?

(1) fyodor wishes you didn't cry so much. if he wanted you to cry in the corner, your phone long abandoned after he had only laughed at your pathetic attempts at trying to talk to him, then he could have done a hundred other things apart from bringing you to a nice room and taking care of you. he understands everything you're saying, of course, but still pretends not to, cocking his head to the side when you ask him why he's done this and glaring at you when you ask his name. it was a little amusing to see you second guess your every word and try to recall any words from any language you knew. only after a month of captivity, when you start, on the brink of losing your mind, telling him about your name and likes and dislikes, he smiles at you, and says "i know", clear as day. the shock on your face is his favorite expression yet.

(2) so maybe chuuya overestimated his linguistic abilities. it was fine! he had dictionaries and the internet just for this. he gets by using the resources on hand, and you're surprisingly pretty well receptive to his attempts, and even point out the words you're saying when he doesn't understand you. things were going a lot better than he thought, until one day you ask him if he can please help you escape and that he can come with you so whoever hired him won't hurt him, you promise to help, and he realizes you had no idea just why you were here. he does consider telling you the truth, but it was a lot nicer to have you trust him and stick by him, so ultimately he decides that can wait. for now, he'll go along with your silly idea.

(2) dazai thought he had all the important words covered, but now you're screaming at him so loudly that he can't comprehend a single word coming out of your mouth. he offers you the dictionary and a pencil, clearly telling you to please circle the words you're using but instead, you throw it back at him and scream some more. not knowing what else to do, he starts speaking to you in gibberish. it works, almost, because you go eerily quiet to listen to him before going back to screaming and throwing things at him (because now it sounds like he's mocking you). oh well, time to sign up for those classes!

(3) nikolai didn't think it'd be this hard to get the message across. surely, using his overcoat to transport you here was enough for you to understand that this was a kidnapping? well, he didn't understand what you were saying either, but he was mostly sure that you said the words 'money', 'who' and 'why' at least thrice now. living together when neither of you understood the other couldn't be that bad, right? he uses pictures of an amusement park and a handy app to ask you if you'd like to go out and that he will drag you back screaming if you tried to run, and the horror on your face is all he needs to know you understood him clear as day. see, not that hard!

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teastainedprose · 2 months

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homelander x fem!reader who RELIGIOUSLY sleeps with a stuffed animal (me and my 20 y/o giraffe with no stuffing in his neck are totally not projecting here)...

he spends the night at her place for the first time and sees it laying on her bed, he teases her for it but is also just slightly jealous because "why do you need this old thing when you've got me?"

"What the fuck is that?" There's equal parts distain and disbelief in Homelander's voice as he plucks up the red plush toy from your bed, turning it over in his hands as a frown tugs his lips down.

"A Charmander," You reply even if you know he has no idea what that is. You busy yourself with turning the covers down as you crawl into bed. Sighing, you Homelander's gaze flicks between you and the large plush toy of a sleeping cartoon creature, one brow lifting. "Ah, right." He rolls his eyes, lips twisting in distain as Homelander squeezes the stuffed animal between his hands. The sleepy placid smile never leaves the Charmander as he briefly sneers at it. "That clears everything up," Homelander quips before dropping the stuffed animal back onto the bed. "Didn't know I was fucking such a childish woman," he goes on with a tone that's almost playful. Almost. You're used to this. Homelander isn't the most mature man. "It's soft and comfy to cuddle." You grab the plush as you settle down in bed, already pulling the covers up over your shoulder as you tuck the stuffed animal in with you. It's your bed the two of you are sharing tonight. Your pillows. Your well-worn sheets and buttery soft blankets. Homelander's bed may be the height of luxury, but it couldn't beat your own for sheer creature comforts. A content sigh escapes you as you burrow down, tucking your chin atop the stuffed animal's head. The perfect pillow. "You're really going to sleep with that- That thing while I'm here?" Homelander asks, voice incredulous as he crawls in beside you. He's quick to tuck himself about your form, never leaving any room for you to breath. Homelander nuzzles into the crook of your neck a moment before settling his chin on your shoulder. His arms snake about your middle, tugging you flush against him as Homelander releases a sigh akin to a put upon dog.

Then he huffs. You can sense as much as see the glare he's giving the toy as you glance up to him.

"Are- Are you jealous of my Charmander?" "No," it's a petulant grumble as he turns to press his face back into your neck. He nuzzles again before his teeth graze the sensitive flesh there and then he bites. "M'just not interested in an audience." There's a growl to his voice and you swear he sounds territorial. Over a plushie. You laugh and the sound turns into a delighted shriek as Homelander moves over you, teeth clamping on your neck as his hands roam over your body. Somewhere along the way, Homelander makes sure to pluck your stuffed animal free of the covers to toss it onto the floor.

#haha guess what plushie I have in my bed #also Homelander can shove it #you can pry my plushies from my cold dead hands #also Pokemon is canon in The Boys verse #Hughie said so #which means Homelander COULD have grown up with Pokemon ;;~;;#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys #homelander writing #drabble #ask #anon ask #the boys fanfic #homelander x f!reader #x reader

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moongreenlight · 5 months

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Greek mythology/the Olympians has been my hyperfixation for going on two decades now and I just… Soap as Dionysus.

Always brings a good bottle of wine and a few rooted cuttings of ivy as a housewarming gift. If he’s fixed his attention on you, he’ll also put a few sex toys in the little bag he brings. Puts them right on top for the pleasure of seeing your scramble to try to shove them in a drawer or tuck the whole gift in the closet.

He’s a great time. Has this intoxicating way about him. Like life is a stage and he’s the director. Playful and fun, though a little too enthusiastic at times. Handsy when the two of you hang out. You assume that’s just his nature and excuse it accordingly. Hard not to, gorgeous man that he is. A divine kind of handsome. Like his features are an eons-old amalgamation of all the most beautiful features humans have ever had.

And he gets strangely possessive, even after you’ve been nudging back his wandering hands or putting your hand between his mouth and your neck all night. Borders on vindictive and aggressive if he’s not in the right headspace.

It’s a bit terrifying to see him snapping his teeth in the face of some man at the bar who had only just asked you if you’d wanted a drink. You swear later in the night you see him babbling feverishly to a group of his friends. It sounds like total gibberish, and his friends look even more confused than you feel, but his eyes are wide as saucers and his hands are flying about hazardously. You don’t think much of it after Soap pulls you by the waist to the corner booth and tips a cocktail up to your mouth.

He keeps you out until all hours of the night. Insists on staying jovial. Club-hopping to find the best crowd, best music, best conversation. Keeps you up and active for so long that the confines of reality start to become fuzzy at the edges.

Sexuality expressed through bodies writing and twisting in drunken dance. Bumping up against one another. Collecting strangers and your own sweat in fat beads on your skin that make you shiver when they get heavy enough to trail down the small of your back.

When the room is spinning enough to make you stumble just a bit and you’re unable to do anything but giggle about it, he’s somehow able to make sneaking off into the family bathroom together seem like a good idea. He seems just as drunk as you are, slinging an arm around your shoulders when you walk. Bellowing a laugh when his hand grazes your tit but making no attempt to pull it away.

It’s less easy to be oblivious when you’re in the bathroom together. The muffled music filtering through the bottom of the door. He’s pressing up against you even though now there’s no crowd to excuse his practically grinding his groin on your hip.

It smells like sweat and generic brand bathroom cleaner. You hum when he staggers to the urinal instead of griping at him about how crass it is to take a piss right in front of you. He props himself up on the wall with one hand and a moment after you hear the teeth of his zipper come undone, he lets out a throaty, satisfied groan.

You busy yourself looking in the mirror. Checking your makeup. Seeing if you look as drunk as you feel. It’s filthy. There’s a web of cracks coming from the bottom left where it looks like someone tried to send their fist through to the wall behind it. It makes you a bit dizzy to look at and you have to bend at the waist to get close enough to see the way your mascara has smudged all around your eyes.

And all of a sudden there’s a burning heat behind you. Sickly, feverish heat pressing straight into the pillows of your ass. Soap’s spidery reflection shows up just over your smile sporting a wicked grin. Teeth and eyes flashing.

You try and swat him away, all too used to his comings-on, but he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips bruisingly hard.

“C’mon, hen. Been driving me mad all night. Relax a bit. Jus’ need this. Need you. Please.”

He has to lay flat over your back to hiss in your ear. Teeth clenched like he really needs to put some effort behind his words to sound polite. Like a petulant child who’d just been reminded by their mother to practice manners.

You were practiced in batting back his advances, but for some reason his grit made you falter. His gaze seemed to be burning a hole through you in the mirror. The idea that something inside him was hitting a roaring boil that he couldn’t stop from flowing over made your brain go foggy. The opposite of sobering. His aberrant need was contagious and catching quick.

He smelled like sweat and cheap cologne and dry, sweet wine and woods. Flirty and masculine and overwhelming. And he’s warm and strong behind you, even if he’s pushing his hard cock into you.

Who were you to deny him the pleasure of snapping his hips into your backside a few times? Letting his fingers impatiently tug at the button of your jeans and hastily tug them down with your underwear until they pooled around your ankles?

It didn’t help that the sound of him sending a glob of spit into his hand made you clench around nothing. A familiar warmth gathering between your thighs that made you shift a bit to chase the momentary relief even a touch of friction could provide.

He couldn’t even afford you the decency of pretending not to see. No. Instead he points a spotlight on you and insists you perform for him again. Nudging your legs apart and pressing his thigh flush against your core while purring the filthiest things in your ear.

“Ken I jus’ needed to wear you down, mm? Thought ‘bout this before we went out. Always did get sloppy when you drink. Jus’ needed a little push. That’s it -Jesus- cunt’s so wet. Gonna take good care of her.”

And the club is so packed full of drunken, dancing bodies that hardly anyone notices the way you two stumble out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Even though you’re still fumbling with the button of your jeans with shaking hands.

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peterparkeeperer · 1 year

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quick breathing (cristina yang x gn!reader)

You had been resting in the oncall room when the door had been roughly opened. You flinched, and sat up with an elbow supporting your weight. You squinted, and Cristina’s wild locks created a halo around her. She stepped in before leaning against the closed door.

She smoothed her hair back, seemingly unconsciously. She then swiped her finger under her nose quickly with an indecipherable look in her eye.

“I…like you. Okay?”

Flabbergasted, you laid dumbly.

“Okay?” Was all you could say. She nodded.

“Okay. Alright. That’s it.”

She then turned sharply towards the door, seemingly to leave. In a millisecond of confusion, it then took you another second to barely grasp what she was saying. You got out of bed fully and rushed to grab her arm. With the door halfway open you pushed her back in and closed it.

“Woah, wait a minute, you can’t just leave after saying that!”

“I can’t?”

“No!”

It was awkwardly silent for a moment. It fully hit you then, what she’d said.

“You like me.” You said, incredibly soft. Your head felt so mushy that you just had to tilt it as you looked at her infront if you.

She seemed unable to make eye contact, and her eyes flit from your shoulders to your eyes, to your throat. “Well, don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Your hand that was gripping her long sleeved covered forearm stroked upwards, and with this simple yet conscious move her eyes shot to yours and stayed there. It was your turn to feel nervous. Nervous infront of this amazing woman, focused fully, yet completely unpredictable.

Your fingers traveled across the bow of her shoulder, and finally to where her blue scrub ended by her throat. Then, with a slight tremble she probably caught, you held her cheek tenderly. It fit perfectly, as if meant to hold her. Her dark locks tickled the back of your hand.

You needed a second to move, but Cristina never had and never would, and therefore it was her who crashed her lips to yours. Her body that had been still was suddenly moving against yours, and the feeling of her quick breathing against your chest was euphoric.

You admired cardio before, but now more than ever. All hearts did the same, beat the same, but her’s was so strong, and you almost wished you could feel it directly in your hands. Her life, her very ambitions beating a wild beat into your palms.

#gn reader #greys anatomy #cristina yang x reader #christina yang #cristina yang #just a little drabble (what does Drabble even mean?)#I write the most random characters ever. want her so bad though #greys anatomy x reader #hehe

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infamous-if · 1 year

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O kay okay okayaoakayasysayas Since Rowan isn't going to be a LI can we please get his POV reaction (deep crush stage) of MC going over to him to tell him that MC is in love with one of the other ROs? Pleasee I need the angst and I love Rowan and am sad we won't be able to romance him!!

I was listening to favorite crime and kind of went a bit overboard. Please excuse this lengthy and angsty-ish drabble. Aha.... 🤒 ill keep it short next time

The soft notes of Rowan's guitar--affectionally dubbed 'Betty'--rises above his head, filling the silence of his hotel room. He strums aimlessly, absently, his fingers having a mind of their own as they move, creating a random melody that's oddly soothing. Or maybe it's the very essence of his guitar--he always feels more grounded, centered, with Betty in his hands.

Rowan's gaze remains unfocused as he plays, his head tilted, legs crossed on the balcony that overlooks the sleepy streets of their latest tour stop. A soft, pleasantly warm wind curls around the messy strands of his hair, locks sweeping across his forehead like a caressing hand. As the melody takes hold, going from mindless practice to something that sounds like it can be the bones of a real song, he closes his eyes.

Rowan has never been a good singer, but you don't need to be a good singer to make people feel something. He's learned that from the best of them.

I wonder if MC would like this.

The thought of his best friend makes a low groan sound in his throat, and with a huff he pauses the recording of his phone. Suddenly Betty's romantic notes feel like a taunt, a blade to his heart with every reminder of what he and MC are not. They're not together. They're not anything more than friends.

They're not what he wants them to be.

He knows he shouldn't feel this way about them. They're friends. They've been friends since he still thought fart jokes were funny and he had no bass in his voice. That's all they've always been and all they will be: friends.

The word has never sounded so terrible.

Still. If only...

His phone buzzes with a text and he sets Betty down. That blade in his heart only twists when he sees who it's from.

Of course. Did my thinking manifest them? The thought induces both a laugh and a sharp hint of misery from him.

He reads the text: Open your door.

He turns his upper-body to face his door, bursting up once the realization flows through him. He glances at himself in the mirror on his way there, making sure his pajamas are at least semi-presentable. It's MC; they've seen him in worst states, but level of comfortability changes when you want someone to see you in ways they've never seen you before.

In other words, he needs to look good.

Rowan heaves a breath before swinging open the door, remembering to keep the easy smile on his face. MC still looks good even at twelve a.m. after an entire day on the road. It's almost unfair.

"Heyyyy." He grins, trying to appear light. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

MC rolls their eyes. "You're not busy, are you?" They lean over to peek behind Rowan's shoulder, their eyes settling on an abandoned Betty. "Working on something?"

"Nah." He scratches his neck, self-concious. "Just fooling around. What, you need to talk about something?"

MC pushes past Rowan's shoulder to breeze inside, throwing themselves on the bed with a huff. "Iris and Devyn are out and I need to talk to someone."

Rowan takes a seat next to them, snorting. "So I'm the third choice?Wow."

They prop themselves up on their elbows, strands of hair falling in front of their face. Rowan has the terrible urge to lean over and push them away. "You're not exactly the 'serious talk' kind of person."

"Serious talk?" He gapes. "Yes, I am! I'm capable of being serious, you know. I'm not an asshole."

With a laugh, MC rolls over on their stomach and groans into Rowan's pillow. Now his curiosity is officially piqued. What could have MC so...like this?

"What's up?" Rowan's following laugh is both nervous and amused. "Did something happen with Seven?" Seven and MC have been a bit...all over the place since the beginning of the tour. He hardly knows what to call it. "Or did Orion lecture you again?" Orion is another one. That man has been relentless since tour started.

MC shoots him a look before sitting up, copying Rowan's position. His eyes flicker down to where their knees touch, to the proximity that's gone from the size of the bed to none at all.

They've been close like this before. No, scratch that. They've been closer, but this is different. This is different because everything is different.

"You know you're my best friend, right?" MC says, putting their hands on Rowan's.

He clears his throat, the skin under theirs burning with their touch. "Yeah...?"

"And we can tell each other everything?"

"Yeah." He quirks a brow at them, trying to stifle their humor. "Are you dying? Please don't tell me you're dying. You haven't even gotten rich yet to leave me anything in your will."

MC laughs but it comes out a bit uncertain. High-pitched. Rowan knows them. The same way he knows Iris and Devyn. He knows all of them like the back of his hand. So it only takes him another second to realize it.

MC is nervous.

His heart does a weird somersault in his gut.

"I have a secrettttt," MC sing-songs. Even as a joke they still manage to sing with perfect pitch.

The four words are enough to shake his very world, but he manages an eye roll. "Fucking hell, we're not twelve. Just spit it out."

"Sorry." MC palms their face, a nervous laugh escaping them. God. This must be serious for MC to be nervous in front of him? Rowan has never really gave anyone the impression of a harsh judge. Hell, he's always been an open book. "I just...I'm in love with [RO]."

He wished he didn't rush them. He wished he didn't hear those words at all. He's half tempted to grab it from the air and shove it back into MC's mouth so they can pretend it never happened.

"What?" is all the fuzz in his brain can spit out.

MC throws their self back, a wildly breathless laugh escaping them. The sound is even better than Betty's notes. "WHEW. That felt good to say it. Is anyone hot in here? I know I am."

MC keeps babbling but all Rowan could hear is a white noise in his head. MC is in love with RO. MC is in love with them.

MC is in love with someone that's not him.

"I just needed to let that out." MC huffs, gazing around the room. "You should invite me next time you play. You know I like seeing you finger Betty."

Rowan can't even laugh at the dirty inside joke they've had between them since he bought Betty years ago. It suddenly makes him feel wholly small and largely ridiculous: Rowan will never be the person for MC. He will always be the goofy best friend that makes stupid, childish jokes about fingering his dumbass guitar and the one MC goes to when Devyn and Iris aren't available.

He's not even the second choice. He's the fucking fourth.

As if noticing the change in atmosphere, MC awkwardly purses their lips and says, "I should probably get back to my room and get some sleep. We have an early start tomorrow."

He blinks, managing a small nod. "Uh-huh." He runs a hand through his hair, feeling naked without his hat. "Right."

They stand and shoot Rowan a final look. "Thank you," they say after. a moment, "for being my friend."

He's really starting to hate that word.

But he smiles anyway. "Yeah. Ditto."

MC grins, spinning on the heel of their foot to leave the room. Rowan follows, waving lamely at them and watching as they disappear down the hall, whistling a merry tune. It's true; it does feel like a weight was lifted of their shoulders. They walk with a hop in their step. Rowan hates knowing it was RO that is responsible for that.

With a sigh he closes the door, leaning his forward against it. Spinning on his shoulder, he looks up at the ceiling.

"I need to get laid," he mumbles.

Though he has a feeling that won't do much to solve the problem in his heart.

#POV character studies are fun #though I'd like one with victoria or august #they're so underrated!!!#also this was a bit moody #I mean this level of internal pain is a taste of what most routes are going to look like in Infamous!#also pls excuse any typos or awkwars sentences i whipped this out and didn't edit it or anything i dont usually edit drabbles sorry!#also rowan is NOT AN LI!! accept it!!! live with it!!!!! (jk haha)#also idc if I’m 24 Olivia Rodrigo slaps!!#rowan hart #drabble

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phoneycam · 8 months

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So i was looking for new codywan fanfiction as i usually do when i come across this post and my brain just, yes.

I love to think it was just inevitable and not really conscious. Like they don't fucking realize because why would they?

One day Cody and some of the ghost company are giving the tour to the new batch of shinies, explaining how things work, the rules, cleaning shifts, where everything is, etc.

They arrive to the bridge where the General is waiting for them with the kindest smile. This is the rutine everytime they get a new batch, Obi-Wan presents himself formally without the kaminoans presense sucking up any friendly encounter and Cody doesn't have to deal with his sad tooka eyes when the shinies are too terrified of him otherwise.

The commander is about to present them to their new general when his comm lights up showing Rex incoming transmition. He looks up to his generals comm also lightning up, they share a concerned look before answering at hte same time.

"Master! thanks the forse-" "CODY WE NEED KRIFFING REINFORCEMENTS" "Re-... calm d..wn! it's.. -ot that bad!-" "SKYW...KER JUST-... XPLODED TH-.. SHIP-"

While the shinies jump on diverse levels of startle, the veterans share an exasperated-concerned look. They had just set off cordinates to Coruscant. Obi-Wan sighs.

"It seems like we'll need to end the tour a little earlier than expected general." Cody takes of his helmet resigned and ignoring the transmitions shouting at eachother.

"Indeed commander. Guess i'll be waiting for you to join us at the war office" Obi-wan signs to Waxer and Boil to follow him.

Cody sighs and lean over to kiss his general when he passes him.

"I'll grab you a cup of tea on my way" Obi-Wan smiles fondly and returns the kiss.

" Thank you dear" He respondes and exits the bridge not realizing that one, his not being followed, two, the deafening silence he just left behind and three, the gaping group of shinies. In his defense, Cody doesn't realize either. He just smiles smitten until the doors close behind his beloved and the commander mask falls in again.

"You heard the general, change the coordinates to... is there a problem?" Rex who is still on is the first to come out of it.

"WHAT IN THE ACTUAL F-" And then chaos.

#codywan #obiwan my beloved #cody my beloved #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi #fic ref #drabble #Im not actually sure what a drabble is #send help #i just think they're neat #star wars the clone wars #captain rex #i'm dislexic and not english native #so don't be too mean #or i will cry

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stickyspeckledlight · 2 months

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Boop! 🐾

(L didn't get this out yesterday but I was also a smidge busy balduring my gates and stockpiling knock off thin mints)

Unfortunately I do not have enough thoughts to write a drabble, but yan!aventurine would totally boop you.

The worst part is that you have no one to blame but yourself. On one particular night, when you weren't quite pushed to your limit but where your thoughts certainly did verge on the homicidal, an idea crosses your mind that, you believe to be utter genius in the moment: if you cannot overpower him or outwit him, then you certainly can use your meager mental faculties to bamboozle the fucker.

It's ingenious, you're certain! A touch that is not provocative, not aggressive, but OH so...powerful. A primordial innocence primed with mischief and tomfoolery. An action of such utter stupidity that no one in their right mind could even begin to react to.

He has been attempting to goad you into playing one of his games for the past five centuries (and no, you affirm that your sense of time is quite in order), and from having performed this song and dance innumerous times, it is about now when he says or does something to make you give in, and then entraps you in his hold before you can escape.

It is you who takes the initiative.

A demented grin full of malice and desperation spreads on your face as you ready your finger, and rush over to him, and

Boop! right on his nose.

And it works. He is too stunned; either by the stupidity of the situation, or that you've initiated contact. But you do not fret over the reason. You seize the opportunity and slip into the bathroom, locking it and securing it with a chair you grabbed for good measure. In the throes of your victory, no rational thought crosses your mind.

But all actions have consequences, and this very true fact catches up to you. Aventurine has not come banging on the door or mocking you as you thought he would. You have not heard from him at all. This is a good thing, but it makes you nervous---compounded by the fact you cannot stay in the bathroom forever.

Sure, you could theoretically survive here for three weeks, as the only thing you'd be lacking was food. You had a toilet, and a shower and bath to decompress in, even! And if you wanted to lay down? You could merely set up a haven of comfort with the millions of towels Aventurine keeps in his gargantuan bathroom. It was a great place to bunker in for sure!

.......but do you really want to starve? Like, do you really, really, really want to put yourself through that over him? You do hate him and want to see him suffer, but your mother and every self-help book ever says that you should love yourself! And unfortunately and fortunately for you, you do love yourself enough to not want to go through it. But, you can at least be strategic about it. Nabbing supplies in the night? No, Aventurine has proven himself capable of operating without a wink of sleep for good knows how long. The key to this operation is to leave when he's left! Ahahaha! Good job, you! You really are a bonafide genius! Nous ought to send you an invitation to the ranks of the Society!

(you're aware that he could just bust down your door without issue, but you'll take reprieve when you can get it, you know?)

So, you wait, and keep on waiting even after you hear the entrance close. You will not take any risks, and you wait for what you think is a good hour or three. And then, you emerge.

You are swift and precise, making a beeline towards the kitchen to stock up, and just as you are about to open the cabinet to nab a box of succulent bioengineered cheese crackers---

"Boop!" a gentle pressure mounts on your nose.

There really isn't any winning with this guy, you think. After this nasty surprise, he "revokes your bathroom privileges," mounting it with a lock and essentially requiring his permission with the key card he gives you for it.

And worst of all, your concept of utter genius comes to haunt you in your every waking moment. Coming home from a long day of work? Boop! Threatening your family and friends? Boop! Playing Animal Walking? Boop! Throwing you into a bare room handcrafted for sensory deprivation? Boop! Post nut clarity? Boop!

You then see the one glaring folly in your initial thought process: why did you ever assume Aventurine to be in the right mind in any way or any situation?!

#lol i wonder if i can even post this to ao3 #eh maybe i can adpat it into an actual drabble but also this is so inherently tied to tumblr that it's tough #it's fine i wrote this in like twenty minutes or something as a breather from actual fic writing lmao #no what do you mean i have to read three chapters before next class that's stupid #yandere #yandere aventurine #yandere hsr #honkai star rail #aventurine hsr #reader takes home a massive L #well then again they aren't home but aventurine would also then beg to differ #yandere aventurine x reader

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hades-in-bloom · 5 months

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Bitten Lips

a/n: happy Astarion brainrot—two silly blurbs for both Tav (#1, w/ Spawn A) and The Dark Urge (#2, w/ Ascended A) using the same keywords (see the title; like, also don’t ask how and why, pretty please). Summaries and additional warnings per blurb below. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

spoilers for Act 3

warnings & contents [for both]: depictions of self-harm (non-suicidal); mentions of blood; the reader could be any gender; Tav/Durge could be any race or class; age gap (hard not to with a 200-years-old vampire); could’ve been a headcanon

[1] : lucky one

Spawn!Astarion Ancunin x Tav!Reader

summary [1]: Tav is nervous, and somehow it makes Astarion climb a wall.

+warnings & contents [1]: unadulterated comfort with a pinch of anxiety; silly bad habits driving Astarion insane; cheeky Tav

soundtrack [1]: måneskin — honey (are you coming?)

***

Astarion snaps when you bring wandering fingers to the bottom of your face again.

“Stop it,” the elf demands, mouth pressed into a thin line as he attempts to keep his frustration in check. You wince slightly, picking a string of dry skin from your wounded lips once more without realising the gravity of your actions.

“Sweet hells,” Astarion grumbles. “Why would you do it? It’s disgusting.” A bizarre mix of annoyance and worry is almost palpable in his well articulated voice. He’s seen worse sights, but you hurt yourself—that’s what he finds appalling.

As thin blood gushes out of a fresh rip on your lip, unadulterated guilt floods your essence instantly. You feel your cheeks heat up, and anxiety crooks your fingers, while you finally realize how sore your lips are since you kept violating them repeatedly in the past half an hour, agitated and a little bit overwhelmed. A prospective of turning into a mindflayer with no lips whatsoever soon down the line would make anyone nervous after all.

Astarion gives you a long stare, so you look away and mumble, “I’m sorry.” To be honest, you didn’t expect him to pick up on your silly bad habit; no one ever pays that much attention to it—there are always bigger problems to tend—but somehow he does notice.

Your tongue runs across your bottom lip, and you taste metal.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” The vampire frowns, his voice rising an octave. He frets, however hides the feelings behind a playful facade everyone’s been so used to. “Otherwise you’re ruining that pretty face of yours for no reason.”

He asks difficult questions, so you huff, unsure of what you’re supposed to say. You’ve never been great at talking about your feelings, bottling up your emotions deep down instead, where no one would ever think of rummaging.

“You didn’t expect me to always be a damned ray of sunshine, did you?” You revert your gaze to him reluctantly.

To be fair, usually you’ve smiled inappropriately often. If there were any expectations in this regard among the party members, you are the one to blame for it.

“Gods, no. Also, too much sun is bad for my health, so...” Astarion shrugs off your cynicism without a second thought. “You do you, lover.”

The pale elf’s stare lingers on you way too long for your liking, mildly unfounded uneasiness growing inside you. You want him to drop it; you want him not to care, when you don’t have answers for him. Of course, it’s too much to ask. You lose your patience at once, rolling your eyes in defeat.

“You won’t let it go,” you acknowledge, and his lips curl into a faint smile in response.

“I will if you stop doing that,” the pale elf retorts with a hint of desperate outrage as your finger innocently slides over your sore lip unwittingly, probing before the next torture.

You turn your obsession into advantage, and there’s a mischievous spark in your eyes. “I won’t be able to stop by myself.”

He catches up almost instantaneously, with his gaze fixated on your bloody, tortured lips now for all the wrong (or right?) reasons.

Astarion eliminates the distance between you two with a shameless smirk forming on his face—the smirk you knew quite well.

“Darling, aren’t you lucky,” his voice sings, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling your bodies close, leaning forward meaningfully. “I might just be willing to help you out.”

[2] : broken one

Ascended!Astarion Ancunin x Consort!Dark Urge!Reader

summary [2]: Astarion’s partner falls a victim of their dark urges once again.

+warnings & contents [2]: Durge is durging; mentions of murder; mild descriptions of death; unhinged kisses; implied power struggle?

soundtrack [2]: bella poarch — villain and dutch melrose — runrunrun

***

Tonight the palace giggles in your voice, and It can only mean one thing. Astarion hears what you did well before he steps into the bedroom, blood champing under the sole of his exquisitely made shoe. Right there, in the epicentre of massacre, your figure is hunched over maid’s body, now lifeless. Her head hangs limply from your lap, while your twitching fingers are sorting through strands of gore stained hair.

Astarion takes stock of the committed atrocity for one moment before he begins to approach. “What a mess,” he sighs, slightly wrinkling delicate features in annoyance, making his verdict. “Why, little love—this one is particularly sloppy.”

You have not come to senses yet to argue; there is a dreamy, unsettling smile on your face as you glance at your beloved glassy-eyed. Astarion smiles tenderly in return, his fingers gripping your chin to lift your head.

“Poor thing,” the man cooes a tad condescendingly, seizing the moment, when you are incapable of biting back.

Animalistic grunt escapes your throat, and you snarl, but the vampire lord holds you in place tightly. He covers your bleeding, bitten in heat of the urge lips with his own, fangs dragging over your sore skin, making you gasp, almost weep instead.

At other times headstrong and fierce, able to fight back against his caring tyranny, at this point you are exhausted. You cling to his embellished doublet with the last of your strength, pleading, surrendering yourself at his mercy.

“My lovely consort,” Astarion mutters with affection, satisfied with your obedience to the point of one’s disgust.

The pale elf kicks back maidservant’s body with his foot and picks you up in his arms, holding tight to his chest as he carries you to your shared bed. You can feel the urge leaving your body, taking your consciousness away with it.

“It’s going to be over soon, my love.” Astarion whispers soothingly, although you can’t hear him anymore. “It’s going to be over soon.”

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steddieas-shegoes · 21 days

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congrats on 3000 followers 💫 you deserve it honey!🧡 Also, Chappell Roan has been stuck in my head, so I’m suggesting a lyric of hers for a prompt:

“I could be the one, or your new addiction.”

(Or any lyric from HOT TO GO!)

Thank you! I’m right there with you, Chappell Roan the incredible bitch that you are 👏🏻

➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿

“He’s had one drink and he’s acting like he had a bottle of vodka,” Robin shook her head while she watched Steve dancing with two guys in the middle of the club they’d only been at for an hour.

“He needed to let loose,” Eddie shrugged, looking down at the drink he’d barely taken a sip from.

Robin looked at him, frowned, then looked back to Steve. She desperately needed them to get their shit together, but Steve acting like this definitely wasn’t going to work. It didn’t help that Eddie had been acting moody all day, barely even wanted to come with them.

“And what about you?” She finally asked him. “Are you gonna let loose tonight or keep the stick up your ass until you go to bed?”

Eddie’s head shot up, ready to argue. He didn’t, though. He looked back down at his drink and sighed.

“Not really feeling like letting loose, birdie.”

“Why not?”

Eddie shrugged and stayed silent.

“Did something happen?” She pushed. Even on his moody days, he was still usually capable of putting on a smile for her or the kids.

“No, just me being dumb. Making assumptions,” Eddie snorted. “Should be used to it by now.”

“What assumptions?” The song changed to something even louder and she considered dragging Eddie to the outside seating so they could talk.

“Just thought I was making progress on something and I clearly wasn’t.”

Oh, so it’s about Steve.

Eddie hadn’t really talked to her about his feelings, but she caught on early. She watched the way Eddie prioritized Steve over everyone and everything else, how he smiled when Steve was happy, how his mood shifted when Steve was having a bad day. She’d be worried more about it if she didn’t know that Steve was the exact same way.

They were idiots, both of them.

“What makes you think that?” She took a sip of her drink to seem more casual, but Eddie wasn’t that much of an idiot.

“Pretty obvious where I stand when someone’s leaving his room early in the morning, Robin.”

So he did know Robin knew.

“Someone slept over last night?” Robin didn’t know that. Steve rarely brought people to his apartment he shared with Eddie, and he hadn’t in nearly a year. Robin didn’t even know the last time he showed interest in anyone beyond getting a free drink from them.

“Yeah. She seemed like his type. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it soon.”

Robin squinted back at Steve dancing.

He would have told her by now about bringing someone home. They’d been together all afternoon.

“I don’t think he slept with her,” she finally said.

“Yeah, okay. I’m sure they just cuddled all night.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “It’s not what you think, I’m telling you.”

“Sure.”

She couldn’t do or say anything else, just had to let Eddie brood about not being in Steve’s bed even though he could fix it if he just said something.

She finished her drink and excused herself to join Steve. Maybe he could tell her what was going on.

“Hey dingus,” she yelled as she got closer.

Steve turned and smiled at her, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Robs! Hi!”

“Hey, babe. Did you forget to eat today?”

Steve nodded.

“Thought so. Let’s go get you some water.”

She dragged him to the bar and managed to get the bartender to get him water before anyone else got more drinks. She forced him to drink half of it before they walked back towards the table in the corner Eddie hadn’t moved from.

“Eddie! You should dance with me,” Steve exclaimed as he sat next to Eddie and grabbed his arm.

“Maybe next time, Stevie,” Eddie smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Steve was still a little too drunk to notice, but Robin saw it.

“Awww, you never dance with me anymore. I miss you.”

Robin could see how hard it was for Eddie to hold himself together. Every possible emotion was flickering behind his eyes.

“Maybe that girl you had over last night will dance with you,” he finally settled on, which Robin immediately wanted to shove back into his mouth.

Steve sat back and seemed to be trying to figure out what Eddie meant when the beat of his current favorite song came on.

“Oh my god! Eddie! Please dance with me!” Steve clapped his hands and stood from the stool he’d been sitting on.

Eddie looked sad, but also endlessly endeared by Steve’s excitement.

“I could be the one or your new addiction!”

Steve was yelling the lyrics right at Eddie, not realizing how much Eddie was hurting.

Robin was his platonic soulmate and Eddie was on of her best friends. She couldn’t keep watching this.

“Steve, maybe you should get some fresh air,” she grabbed his shoulder and tried to turn him away, but he looked mad.

“No, this is my favorite song.”

“Steve, c’mon. Just for a minute. We can listen to this when we get outside if you want.”

Eddie was looking back down at his drink, biting his lip so hard it looked like it might bleed.

“Only if Eddie goes with me,” Steve folded his arms across his chest and pouted.

“Eddie’s gonna save our table in here,” Robin said.

But surprisingly, Eddie interrupted her by standing up and throwing back the rest of his drink.

“I’ll take him.”

Steve cheered and started singing along again as Eddie and Robin shared a look.

Eddie wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and guided him towards the back door that led to a small seating area outside. Steve was singing the whole way, but he rested his head against Eddie’s shoulder while they walked.

“Why are you sad tonight?” Steve asked as they made their way to the only available table outside.

“I’m not.”

“Friends don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying,” Eddie lied.

“Then dance with me. I love dancing with you,” Steve didn’t move his head from Eddie’s shoulder even when they sat down.

“I love dancing with you too,” Eddie managed to say before he felt a lump in his throat.

He loved doing everything with Steve, even dancing to pop songs at a club, and it was only hurting him more to keep pretending it was enough.

“I even taught you the dance to that song,” Steve said quieter. “Remember?”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiled to himself, tightening his grip around Steve’s shoulders. “Made me put my hips into it.”

“Because you have nice hips,” Steve sighed.

Eddie could feel his face heating up. Steve wasn’t sober enough, he didn’t know what the hell he was saying.

“I barely have hips at all,” Eddie managed to choke out.

“Not true. I like holding them. They’re perfect.”

Okay, Eddie couldn’t do this. Robin needed to read his mind and come outside and-

“Wanna hold them now.”

“Steve, you’re drunk. You-“

“Can we dance?” Steve interrupted.

“The music isn’t loud out here.”

“I can sing it.”

“We’ll be the only ones dancing.”

Steve tilted his head back and looked at Eddie. “When has that stopped you before?”

“Fine.”

Eddie stood and let Steve hold his hips, almost a slow dance, while Steve started singing the song.

“Baby, do you like this beat, I made it so you’d dance with me.”

Eddie loved when Steve sang. He wasn’t the best, but he had a smooth voice that made Eddie smile, regardless of the song he was singing.

They were swaying like it was a slow song, but the vibrations of the bass line coming through the walls of the club made it obvious it wasn’t meant to be.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Steve said after he went through the chorus once.

“Okay.”

Steve looked frustrated. “Some guy was trying to take her back to his place and he wouldn’t take no for an answer so I let her Uber back with me and she ended up just spending the night. Nothing happened.”

“That’s…fine. I don’t need to hear about it,” Eddie knew he sounded rude, but he truly couldn’t make it through the night if Steve gave a play by play of getting cozy with someone else.

“I don’t ever want anything to happen with anyone but you.”

Eddie stopped swaying. He was pretty sure the music stopped inside. No one else existed except for them.

“What?” He finally squeaked out.

Steve was looking at him like he was the sun.

“No matter who I dance with or flirt with or hang out with, you’re the only one who matters. It’s just you, Eds.”

He was drunk, but drunk Steve never lied. Eddie knew that for a fact. He’d said some harsh truths before when he had more whiskey than he should’ve.

“I don’t understand.”

Steve searched his eyes and bit his lip, like he was considering what to say.

But then his lips were on Eddie’s, soft, cautious.

He was holding back.

Eddie didn’t want him to.

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pulled him forward so their chests were flush against each other, tongue licking along Steve’s bottom lip to deepen the kiss.

Steve allowed it, moaning as he let Eddie hold most of his weight.

Before they could get too carried away in public, Eddie pulled away to catch his breath and try to get his heart to slow before he passed out.

“Steve, this can’t just be a fun thing. This is…this is everything to me. You’re everything to me.”

Steve nodded, eyes never leaving Eddie’s. “I know. You’re maybe the love of my life. I’m drunk but I know how I feel. Felt that way for years.”

Years?

“Years? And you just now decided to say something?” Eddie wasn’t looking forward to Robin’s ‘I told you so.’

“Couldn’t. Didn’t wanna scare you away.”

“There’s no fucking way you’d ever do that. I’ve been yours for three years whether you knew it or not,” Eddie laughed in disbelief.

“We should go home,” Steve said quickly.

“You tryin’ to take me hot to go?” Eddie teased.

“If you’ll let me,” Steve nodded, tugging on Eddie’s hand to get him to move faster.

“I’ll let you do anything you want, Stevie.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #asks #follower celebration #drabble #getting together #this is becoming a theme #what does it mean #modern au

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modernsapphicism · 3 months

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i believe in a world where when reginas on her lowest of lows, she kinda hesitates on calling janis the one person she knows who wont sugarcoat any shit from her but she doesnt because of what happened to them.

and when the day comes where shes really desperate, she finally dials the number, hands shaking as she hears the line ring, actually afraid of getting rejected.

when janis picks up the phone in the middle of the night, sleep obvious in the tone of her voice as she greets a small 'hello?' and all regina could utter was "come over… please." in the smallest voice possible.

suddenly janis is up and running, confused as hell but all the hatred she has for the blonde slips away in that moment when she heard regina's voice.

a few minutes and a whole lot of running later, janis is standing in front of reginas doorway. she's hesitating to ring or knock, afraid to wake anybody else in the house. a beat passes and suddenly she hears a ping on her phone, a text which tells her the location of a spare key hidden near the pots, the same place it has always been all those years ago.

she reaches for the key and slides it into the lock, twisting the front door as quietly as she can. the scent of the home she frequents when they were younger hits her as memories come flooding in. she takes a moment and heads inside, closing the door gently before running upstairs.

she stood in front of the familiar wooden door, a million thoughts running on her mind. she knocks out of respect.

there was no answer for a few seconds until she hears a little bit of shuffling. the doorknob twists and reveals a very tired regina, her hair messy and unkempt tied in a messy bun, and her eyes swollen from crying, stray years still evident on her cheeks.

"you came," regina says, sadness and surprise laced in her voice.

"you called," was all janis could say as she stares at the blonde in front of her.

no other words were uttered and after a moment, regina steps aside and lets janis in, gently closing the door behind them.

#rejanis #regina george #janis 'imi'ike #mean girls 2024 #a brainrot in the bird app but i wanted it here too bc no chara limit #i think deep down janis still cares and its seen in the end credits too #like she hates what happened and she hates regina #but like i can imagine deep down if theres REALLY sumn wrong #janis would be by reginas side #dribble drabble

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kjack89 · 4 months

Text

Pops up, chucks a tiny angsty ficlet, disappears again…

Enjolras shouldered the door open, shivering against the sudden sting of icy air as he stepped outside. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to keep his teeth from chattering as he crossed the alley behind the Musain to where Grantaire was lurking next to the dumpster, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. “Thought you quit,” Enjolras said in lieu of a greeting, tucking his hands into his armpits to keep them warm.

Grantaire didn’t look remotely affected by the cold, and as he raised the cigarette to his lips, the orange glow from the tip lit his face in sharp relief. “Well,” he said, exhaling a puff of smoke, “you know what they say about bad habits.”

Enjolras jerked a nod. “Hard to quit,” he affirmed.

“Something like that anyway,” Grantaire said. He took another drag, tapping the cigarette against the top of the dumpster before asking, “Did you need something?”

Enjolras frowned. “What do you mean?”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Just out here to get warm, are you?” he asked, amused.

Since Enjolras’s teeth were now audibly clacking together, he supposed Grantaire had a point. “Just wanted to check on you,” he managed between shivers.

Grantaire rolled his eyes and reached out to draw him close, wrapping his free arm around Enjolras’s shoulders. “Idiot,” he said, with no small amount of affection. “Pretty sure the point of the whole breakup thing means you don’t have to check on me anymore.”

He said it lightly, but his arm tightened around Enjolras’s shoulders, just a little.

There were any number of things Enjolras wanted to say to that, but the problem was, when he was tucked like this against Grantaire’s side, warm and safe, the point of the whole breakup thing just seemed like a terrible idea.

He didn’t say that, though, just reaching out to pluck the cigarette from Grantaire’s fingers, raising it to his own lips. “Well,” he murmured, “bad habits, you know.”

#exr #enjolras #grantaire #enjolras x grantaire #Enjoltaire #ficlet #drabble #don’t know what this is #but have it anyway!#modern au #smoking cw #going to go ahead and toss a #fic I won’t be writing #on this #because I mean I don’t even know where this is going #so #breakup #angst #light angst really

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